


a collection of short works

by wrathofalover



Category: Marvel
Genre: Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 17:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30143049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrathofalover/pseuds/wrathofalover
Summary: this is gonna be where i copy + paste all of my works including ocs so i can keep track of them ! all characters are mine unless otherwise stated in notes. i likely won't be providing backstory with these works, i mainly write them for me & friends - who already know the characters - to read. i'm an amateur writer, so any advice or critiques are welcome & appreciated !
Relationships: Original Character/Original Character





	1. a dying mans thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> phillip was created by my friend bobby, and maverick was created by my friend thea !
> 
> tw for semi graphic descriptions of a sh//ting (o) & d/ing (y)

protests rarely took place in san angel. the community often organized protests to take place in much larger cities, and it was safe to say that no one in the town wanted to bring that sort of attention to their home, knowing somehow the media would paint peaceful demonstrations with negative colors. because of the fact that rallies almost never took place in his own town, once a month or so leon would catch a bus out of town to participate in a protest. these trips weren't the safest endeavors, not only because of the sad reality that he could be hurt, but also due to the small fact that leon often felt nauseous in dry weather. luckily, it wasn't ever much of an issue, san angel had a large beach to the west and being near the water made sure he wasn't sick to his stomach for the entirety of summer. only thing was, since the residents weren't too keen on seeing _**"riots in san angel! community turning violent?"**_ when they turned on the news, leon often had to travel to much more dry parts of the state to be apart of protests. he always felt sick in dry climates -- likely a side effect of his mutation -- so he always packed his bag to the brim with water bottles.

on this particular day, he was occasion, he planned to spend the day in san antonio (not to be confused with the city most other universes placed in texas), a rather a large city mirroring sacramento in population, that often held protests for any form of inequality you could think of. san antonio was a hot spot for rallies, making it a hot spot for violence as well. not only was it dangerous due to angering someone who didn't particularly agree with the movement, it was also in the middle of the state, leaving the possibility for a riot to take place at any given moment. leon wasn't a big fan of taking the trip alone because of this. phillip wasn't available, however maverick was. maybe it was a blessing in disguise that phillip couldn't come.

it was usually only an hour drive from san angel to san antonio, but unexpected traffic added an extra 35 minutes to their trip. maybe it was a good thing phillip wasn't able to come. maybe it was a warning when their ride took longer than it should have. once they finally made it into town, it was about a ten minute walk from the bus station to where the protest was being held, a large crowd of people coming into view as they neared closer. there were hundreds of people in the streets of downtown san antonio, the majority of them holding signs that demanded mutants be treated with basic respect. it wasn't uncommon for almost thousands of people to attend protests in the city. it was almost always the time it was the same group of people that planned and attended the events every two or three weeks. in fact, many people considered it the best californian city for holding a protest, the media was most likely to present it positively. every five or ten minutes someone new would join or leave the group, usually staying within the crowd for two our three hours. the protest was scheduled to last until midnight, however leon and maverick decided that it was best if they only spent a few hours there, given that they didn't live in the area or own a car that allowed them to leave whenever they felt like. as the crowd grew, so did the distance between the two men, more and more people pushed past them to get to the front of the protest, hoping more people would see their signs that way. it wasn't a big deal, right? they both knew what time they planned to leave, they would simply meet up at the bus stop when it was time to go. maybe it was a good thing phillip wasn't able to come. maybe it was a warning when their ride took longer than it should have. maybe it was a sign that the distance between leon and maverick would last longer than just a few hours.

only 15 minutes after they were separated that leon started to hear screaming, cries of terror and pain coming from behind him. his first thought was "cops." it wasn't unknown that the police in the area weren't a fan of protests, or really anything that challenged how they treated people. maybe they came in with tear gas or rubber bullets again. while this wasn't the case, the reality of the situation wasn't any better. apparently someone thought it would be a splendid idea to bring a semi-auto to a protest and gun down as many people as he could. leon barely had time to turn and see what the screaming might be directed at before there was a sharp pain in his chest, soon followed by a burn. he could feel the water bottles in his bag be crushed as he fell on his back, the thin plastic making a satisfying _crunch_. it was as if someone had carved a hole directly under his ribcage, and proceeded to pour molten metal into the wound. his mind went blank as the blood started flowing. all he could think about was the pain, and the blood. god the blood. it was oozed out of his chest almost as quickly as the crowd surrounding him ran past, searching frantically for safty. he should have applied pressure, he should have taken off his jacket and put it on the wound to soak up the blood. _he should have, he should have, he should have._ he should have stayed home. his mind finally pulled itself away from the pain, but what he was thinking of now wasn't saving his life any. phillip wasn't able to come. their ride took longer than it should have. the distance between him and maverick. they were signs. the universe was trying to tell him not to go in some shitty, cryptic way. and now here he was, bleeding on the concrete. when people talked about seeing a light, it was bullshit. if anything, his vision was getting darker, more blurry.

he didn't notice that someone had stopped to try and help him until they started to push down on his chest, now it felt like someone was punching him as the metal seeped deeper into his wound. _phillip wasn't able to come._ oh god. phillip's mom had only died a few months earlier. if leon died, what would he do this time? burn down his entire apartment? the thought scared him, especially as his surroundings just seemed to be getting even more dark and blurry. the pain was starting to go away, but maybe that wasn't a good thing. _maybe it was a warning when their ride took longer than it should have. maybe it was a sign that the distance between leon and maverick would last longer than just a few hours. the distance between him and maverick._ **_him and maverick._** where was maverick? had he fallen victim to a bullet as well? was he running? was he looking for leon? he'd been crying before, when the person started pushing on his chest, but now he was really crying. he wasn't going to make it through this, he could feel it. he was too tired. tired of thinking about phillip, about maverick, about how he wouldn't ever see them again and how many moments he wouldn't get to be apart of. and for the first time in over six months, he thought about his mom. he loved his mother. he hated his mother. colette felt the same way towards him. he tried to keep the woman buried deep in his mind but now she was crawling out of the grave he dug her, and he was thinking about the grave she would dig for him. would she even care to? or would she once again pretend he didn't exist and let the state have its way with his body.

he was tired of thinking, that wasn't uncommon for him. leon was tired of thinking about everyone, everything he would miss, the pain. so he stopped. he stopped thinking, and he stopped feeling. seventeen people were injured. five people died.


	2. birth at sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leon belongs to me, theodora belong to me. maverick, missy, & emmeline belong to my friend thea. phillip belong to bobby!
> 
> tw for descriptions of a panic attack

sand. that was the first thing leon felt when he woke up, the familiar feeling of sand between his fingers and the salty smell of the beach.  _ sand. _ no... no, it couldn’t be sand. the last thing he remembered was the texture of smooth concrete, not grainy sand. he could still feel the burning in his chest and the way thick, sticky blood pooled under his back and made his shirt stick to his skin.  **_sand?_ ** he felt sand on his chest, on his face, on his eyelids. leon peeled his eyes open, only to be met with exactly what he thought it was.  **sand.** he was never one for deep thinking, but that made no sense, how could he have gone from bleeding out in the middle of the street, to laying on the beach? 

slowly, he sat up, taking in his surroundings. his joints felt stiff and rusty as he sat up on his elbows. the sky was painted with beautiful pinks, purples, and oranges, a sight that he fell asleep with more times than he could count. it was a sunset. that didn’t make sense either, it was the middle of the day when he went to protest with maverick.  **_maverick._ ** where was maverick? he fully sat up now, looking around the beach for any sign of the blonde. maverick was nowhere to be seen, in fact, there was  _ no one _ else on the beach. there was still burning in his chest, the same burning he felt when he got shot. but it was different this time. less like hot metal was poured into his ribcage and more like someone lit a fire inside his ribcage, the flames slowly melting away his internal organs. the burning traveled up from his chest to his throat, and finally his head. the warm colors of the sunset suddenly felt like he was looking into the sun itself. he couldn’t breathe. one hand went to his chest and the other dug into the sand, grabbing handfuls of the material as if it would somehow pull him out of this. it wasn’t until he felt the bumpy scar and the ways sand stuck to him that leon realized he wasn’t wearing anything. but to be honest, that was the least of his worries right now. tracing the scar, he felt it run from his left shoulder to the middle of his chest. he sat there, just tracing the raised parts of skin up and down. he couldn’t believe it was real. he couldn’t believe that he was here. there was something about the pain he felt after being shot, about the way his vision was going back. it didn’t feel like something he was supposed to come back from.

the burning seemed to get even worse when leon finally stood up. _was he taller?_ _the view seemed to be different._ he felt it from the top of his head to the tips of his fingers, anxiety took over his system like a tidal wave. it pricked the palms of his hands as if he had grabbed a handful of needles, and stung his chest like fresh coffee. tears pooled in the corners of his eyes. he didn’t know if they came from pain, or confusion. leon took a step forward, before turning around. **he recognized this beach** ** _._** he recognized the sign posts and the street lights, the large purple smiley face that was spray painted on an electrical post. there was no one on the beach, but the road was full. headlights burned his eyes even more than the sky did. **leon recognized this beach. leon** ** _knew_** **this beach.** he couldn’t put a number to the amount of nights he slept on it, letting the water flow over his legs. if he knew this beach, that meant he knew this town. and if he knew this town, that meant he could find maverick, he could phillip, and emmeline, missy, and meridia. he was back in san angel. _how the hell was he back in san angel?_ leon knew he wasn’t the smartest but this? there was no reasonable explanation. he was shot in san antonio, **_not_** san angel. he pulled his mind away from the insane circumstances of his location, and started thinking about how he could get some clothes. he knew this beach, which meant he could find one of his old backpacks that he stashed around the town. there was one nearby that he kept clothes in for nights that his clothes got a little too wet or sandy from sleeping on the beach. walking to the bench felt like a dream. one moment it was out of sight, the next, leon was falling to his knees and digging. the panic in his chest burned more and more as he threw sand this way and that, until he found the backpack. for a moment, it was all gone. all of the burning and the pricking went away, a rush of nostalgia taking its place. nostalgia was a smooth and beautiful pearl compared to the rough and sharp rock that was the burning. that’s when he finally started crying. there were tears in his eyes before but they didn’t start pouring until he pulled the bag to his chest. the buttons and pins he decorated the bag with were cold, but it was a welcome feeling. he could identify the designs just based on their placement on the bag.

he sat back on his thighs to unzip the green backpack, pulling out a simple black tee-shirt and ripped skinny jeans. as he pulled the clothing on, he realized something. he always bought (or rather stole) his clothes a size or two bigger than he wore, he liked how the cloth swallowed him up. it was like a hug. but the clothing fit him perfectly now. there was a pair of green flip flops in the bag as well, seeing those just about made him start crying again. it seemed like every memory he had of wearing them while walking down the beach came back at once. he sat down on the bench after dressing, taking in the scene again now that he was more alert. the view was exactly how he remembered it, the sound of the sea was comforting. but the colors of the sky still made him squint. he threw the bag over his shoulder when he finally finished taking in the landscape, and started on his path to phillip and theodora’s apartment. he didn’t know how much time had passed, for all he knew it could have been fifty years, but all he could do right now was hope phillip’s window was still open. 

the walk was longer than leon ever remembered it being. maybe he was still sluggish from waking up, or it just felt longer because of the anxiety, but with every step he took he felt the burning building up again. lights his eyes the same way bullets burned his body. everytime he looked at a car, everytime he checked a sign and caught a glimpse of a street lamp. it burned. the pricking was in the soles of his feet this time, stabbing him every time he got closer to the apartment.. it felt like a lifetime had passed, but finally he was underneath phillip’s window, climbing up the fire escape until he was at the correct story. but when he looked inside the window, it was completely empty. was never much in the room along the lines of furniture, but now it was completely empty. small scorch marks remained on floor and walls, but the bedroom was empty. looking through the open door, he was greeted with even more emptiness. it looked like no one even lived there anymore. _ that couldn’t be. theodora should still be there. _ he sat down, the internal burning having moved back to his chest now. Where could they have gone? xavier’s? the three of them were talking about that a few weeks before the protest. that had to be where phillip was, and if phillip was there, maverick had to be as well.  **he needed a phone.** **_no._ ** he didn’t have xaiver’s number, and he sure as hell didn’t know how to find it.  _ missy. she could find the number. _ **okay, fuck the phone, fuck xavier’s** . first, he needed to find missy. she couldn’t have left too, could she?  _ what if everyone left. _ no, that wouldn’t be like her. it’d take too much to move all of her equipment, she was too comfortable in her space. so that was his next destination. missy’s apartment. leon just had to make sure he didn’t puke before he got there. 

on his way to the building, he couldn’t stop panicking about all the  _ ‘what if’s _ . he wasn’t used to this, to panicking. so often he could just push his worries to the back of his mind.  _ don’t worry. be happy. _ he was used to always being able to simply ignore any anxieties and live in the moment, but now, it was all he could think about. everything he tried to think about that might calm him down just brought another worry with it. what if they all had left california.  _ what if they were dead. _ what if he couldn’t remember the time between the protest and now for a reason, what if he did something? what if he hurt someone? what if none of them wanted to see him and that’s why he woke up alone? before he knew it, leon was standing outside of missy’s door. the sight of it was almost comforting. he knew the smell of the building all too well. he slowly raised his fist and connected it with the wood. two knocks with the fist followed by hitting the door once with his open hand. a century passed before the door opened. but when at last he heard the creak of the hinges and saw his old friend’s face. everything was okay. at least for a second.


End file.
